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Mary Doerksen rides in the passenger seat of a white Toyota Corolla—a small car ill-fitted for the jarring, pot-holed road ahead. On Tuesdays the 78-year-old Winnipegger teaches English in a small Nairobi slum, chauffeured by Pastor Shadrach Ogembo.
Shadrach parks in an open piece of land spanning the width of a soccer field. Both the left and right-hand perimetres are established by barbed-wire fences draped with plastic bags and ragged clothing.
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“Most people in Nairobi don’t know about Mitumba slum,” says Shadrach. In front of him muck gives way to a wall of make-shift housing. An unwelcome breeze carries the tang of open sewage, an allusion to the 10- 15,000 people who call this place home.
Several residents greet Shadrach by name as he and Mary step into a maze of small, flat-roofed hovels. When Shadrach first started teaching Sunday school here several years ago he and his wife saw children in the street eating dirt and chewing on discarded condoms. Sixty to 70 per cent of adults living in Mitumba are HIV+, along with 10-20 per cent of the children.
“We were touched,” says Shadrach, motioning towards a group of smiling children who have come to say hello. "They didn’t just need a Bible club. We thought it was important to start a school for them," says Shadrach.
“They didn’t just need a Bible club. We thought it was important to start a school for them.”
Rounding a twist on the haphazard path, Mary and Shadrach approach a tin church, conspicuous with its wooden steeple and fresh blue paint. Shadrach preaches here on Sundays; during the week its where he leads a 200-child elementary school.
Inside the building students are wearing bright-red uniforms, almost dazzling against the gloomy walls. Half-shouting above the din; Mary says she will start teaching once everyone has eaten a hearty meal of porridge and arrow-root.
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 After lunch Mary teaches eight students who already speak fluent English but need help with grammar.
“When God called me to Africa he called me to be a Grandma to orphans,” she says. “I’ve never taught grammar before.”
During a lesson break, Mary points out a boy named Edward Onderi.
“…He is perhaps a little behind in the class, but he loves the Lord so much.” Mary says she wishes she could send him a guitar to encourage him, imagining that one day Edward will make a great worship leader.
“I just love these kids so much,” she says, her voice breaking. A girl in the class overhears, glancing up before dropping her head back to her journal entry. A trace smile plays on her lips.¤
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